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Her lips twitch into a slight smile, the type that makes a man’s head turn just to get another glimpse of it in the hopes it was meant for him.
Perhaps I’ll relieve him of one of his hands, so he never has the opportunity to lay it on a woman again.
But she’s made it abundantly clear on what she wishes us to be: competition. Enemies. And more importantly, why isn’t that what I want as well?
“Always so vicious and eager to stab me.”
She is the embodiment of a bad decision. The twin of danger and desire. The fine line between deadly and divine. And I can feel myself drowning.
Utterly and completely powerless.
“You seem to keep forgetting who I am, Gray.” “My apologies, Your Highness. What happened after you bodily removed me from this room like a royal ass?”
“Remind me to make you smile like that again, when you aren’t dying, and I have all the time in the world to memorize it.”
“Which one of them did this to you?”
“I’m going to ask again. Who did this to you?”
“Why do you care?” Then she’s laughing bitterly, the sound vibrating under my fingers. “Because I don’t tolerate my toys being played with.” She is going to hate that.
If I am to be her enemy, I want it to be because she loathes herself for wanting me.
“Who,” I swallow, “who did that to you?”
She’s so stunning, yet so stubbornly oblivious to how the sunset behind dulls in comparison to the vibrance that is her.
“And I’ll save your life again and again, aimlessly hoping you will allow me to stay in it.”
